


Like a Breathing Disaster

by DoctorsOrders



Series: From the Scrapes and Bruises [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Addict Mentality, Addiction, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Codependency, Dealer Bones, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, First Time Using, Flashbacks, Gray Morality, Heroin, Internal Conflict, Junkie Jim, M/M, Marijuana, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moral Ambiguity, Multiple Orgasms, Needles, Oral Sex, Overdose, Past Child Abuse, Past Mentions of Foster Care, Performance Issues, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Recreational Drug Use, Regret, Self-Destruction, Self-Worth Issues, Substance Abuse, Triggers, Underage Drug Use, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, bad choices, drug overdose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorsOrders/pseuds/DoctorsOrders
Summary: Leonard never thought he'd end up here: thirty-five years old, slinging dope, using drugs to bribe a junkie kid to stay with him. A junkie kid who he might have fallen in love with. Jim is too much for Leonard—too young, too gone, too broken—and yet, that's exactly why he needs him. A follow-up piece to Other Miserable Beauties**Tags added as this work updates





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WELL here we are three years later I'm following up my very first McKirk fic ever. Writing _Other Miserable Beauties_ was really an experience, and while I feel like I've grown a lot as an author from then, I've always really wanted to continue this story. Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented on the first part of this series, you all have been such a motivation to keep going.  
>  While it is not necessary to read OMB first, I think this story will make more sense if you have. I do feel as though I have a better handle on both the boys nowadays, so they should be much more in character while being in my Not So Nice au. Also, please note the non-canon age difference: Bones is 35 and Jim is 21.
> 
> Just like last time I want to make it abundantly clear as far as triggers go **Substance Abuse/Drug Addiction (specifically heroin) and what could or could not be considered prostitution, depending on how you look at it**. 
> 
> As always, unbeta'd please feel free to point out any mistakes.

Leonard wondered if Jim watching him silently while he was getting dressed was going to be a habit. He hoped not, it was a little unsettling. Well, if he was being honest, this whole situation was a little unsettling, what the ever loving fuck did he think he was doing? 

 

Leonard could feel Jim’s eyes as they bore into his back, the dope in his veins had undoubtably run dry hours ago, and he was faced with the narrow-eyed, cynical version of Jim. Finally Leonard spun around, “What?” he asked, his tone clipped. 

 

Jim turned his head towards the wall as he said, “So, am I your live-in whore? A fuck for a fix?” He knew he was walking a thin line—he could do a lot worse than a hot dealer with a seemingly endless supply of dope—but he didn’t particularly fancy himself a smack whore.

 

Leonard clenched his jaw, but kept quiet. Even though it was noon, it was still too early for this. 

 

“What’s our deal Bones? I’ve gotta know the deal so I can play my part.” It was half true, he had no idea where he stood after last night, but he wasn’t sure if it was a part he was playing anymore. Sure, they’d fucked, but it hadn’t been like the first night. This time there had been tongues and soft kisses; this time he’d fallen asleep with his forehead pressed to Bones' chest and Bones' fingers brushing through his hair. 

 

Leonard hated himself for the cold distance that word ‘deal’ put between them. He’d used it so he wouldn’t get attached, but that seemed to have backfired somewhere along the way, much like the rest of his life. The truth was he didn’t know what their deal was, he hadn’t really thought past bringing Jim back to his place. All he’d known was he couldn’t leave Jim there, he could go two days without seeing him.The whole ordeal had only been complicated by Jim kissing him, now Leonard really had no idea what his plan was. 

 

“The _deal_ is you shut your mouth and you can stay. Here…with me. Off the street.”

 

“That sounds like a shit deal for you…and fuck you, maybe I _like_ the street,” the steel in the statement was compromised by the heavy shiver that ran through his body while he spoke.

 

Leonard just stared at him until Jim broke the gaze. He dropped himself down on the bed next to the twitchy kid. Cautiously, Leonard moved his hand up to Jim’s face, a mirror of what Jim had done the night before, he leaned in, angling to kiss him. Jim pulled away, tucking his chin against his shoulder, his brow furrowed. 

 

“You started it kid,” Leonard says, frustration clouded his tone as he got up. What the hell was he going to do? 

  
Jim sagged back into the pillows when Leonard let him go, but he lurched forward again when Leonard made to get off the bed, “Where’ya going?”

 

Leonard threw an exasperated glance back at Jim as he buttoned up a shirt, “Out,” he responded curtly. Vaguely, he felt like Jim was already a clingy nuisance that he didn’t need, but, for some fucked up reason, wanted very much. He caught sight of Jim’s facial expression, reminiscent of a dejected puppy, and added, “I have deliveries to make, shit to sell.” 

 

Jim twisted the sheets in his fists, and purposely avoiding his eyes. He unconsciously rubbed at bandaid Leonard had put on his arm last night. Jim wasn’t going to make this easy, and Leonard was already annoyed with his weakness, but despite that he said, “Do you want a little while I’m gone?”

 

Jim looked up at him, his eyes desperate, a guilty hunger lurking behind them. He nodded. Leonard picked up a rubber band from the dresser and wrapped it across Jim’s bicep smoothly. Jim bit his lip and whined.

 

“Stay.” 

 

It didn’t mean anything, aside from an instruction while Bones went to get the dope, but it still calmed Jim, made his racing heart slow. _Stay_. It was just one word, the only thing Bones had actually said. _You can stay_ , was what he’d heard, and even though it meant agreeing to a situation he didn’t understand the rules to, relief washed over him. 

 

Jim was horizontal by the time Leonard made to leave. He was analyzing the ceiling like it was his job, caught in the opioid snares. For a moment Leonard stared at him in kind before he slung his bag over his shoulder and left.

 

 

—

 

 

Leonard was honestly a little surprised when he opened the door four hours later to find his apartment still occupied. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting, but Jim laying in the dark on his couch with a bowl of cereal watching the Science Channel certainly wasn’t it. 

 

“Hey,” he’d said simply, like it was customary for Leonard to come home to this scene.

 

“Cereal isn’t dinner,” he said in lieu of a greeting. 

 

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate me ransacking your fridge.” 

 

“You want something else?”

 

Jim set the bowl, still half full, on the table and craned his neck to stare at him.

 

“To eat,” Leonard clarified. 

 

“Whatever. No? I don’t care.”

 

“D’you need another hit already?” He questioned. How had this kid survived on his own? Leonard slowly opened the safe with his thumb-print and put away the product he hadn’t sold. “Huh,” he mused to himself, a little surprised to see it was all still there.

 

Jim shook his head a little, “You don’t get it Bones, I’m _never_ gonna say no. You offer, I’ll take it, but I don’t _need_ it yet, your shit is good.”

 

Leonard ignored him, he padded back to kitchen, digging through a drawer full of takeout menus, “I’m getting Thai, if you want some, tell me now.”

 

“Sure Bones…whatever you want.”

 

Leonard ordered for delivery and took his shoes off, heading for the bedroom. “If they come while I’m in the shower get the door okay?” He told Jim, dropping some cash on the table next to him. 

 

The delivery guy eyed him strangely, when Jim opened the door. Like he could tell Jim didn’t belong in the building. Maybe he knew Bones from previous deliveries. Maybe he didn’t care at all, and was just Jim who felt out of place, but he felt like he was deceiving someone. Jim shoved the money at him, taking the bag and slamming the door just as Bones came out of the bedroom, outfitted in a threadbare shirt and sweats, toweling his hair. 

 

“That door didn’t do nothing to you, boy.” 

 

Jim grumbled in response, setting the bag down on the table before flopping back on the couch. Leonard dug through the bag, handing Jim a container of chicken panang and another of rice before settling at the table with his food and laptop. He watched momentarily while Jim examined the containers. Leonard thought belatedly that it had probably been a while since the kid had real food, maybe he should have gotten something lighter.

 

“How was your day?” Leonard asked, immediately regretting it. He didn’t even _like_ small talk. What a stupid thing to ask Jim, he chastised himself. 

 

Jim scoffed, “Super…just really exciting.” 

 

“You don’t have to be an asshole.”

 

“You mean I don’t have to be like you? Yeah, I know, Bones.” 

 

“I’ve got a name, you know…”

 

Jim stared at him, chewing his food slowly. He shrugged halfheartedly. 

 

“It’s Leonard.” 

 

Jim shook his head, “I’m not calling you that.” 

 

Leonard squinted at him exasperatedly, “It’s my _name_.” 

 

“You’re Bones to me.” 

 

That was that—no room for argument. Jim went back to staring at the TV. 

 

“You do know I get cable, right?” Leonard asked. The flat-screen showed a computer rendering of Mars while a voiceover talked about the logistics of landing on humans on the surface.

 

“I like space,” Jim answered simply. “You can put on whatever though.” 

 

Leonard grumbled but left it alone. He didn’t like thinking about space for too long or it made him panic, but Jim seemed genuinely interested. 

 

A few hours later Jim dozed off. Leonard cleaned up the food and moved awkwardly around his apartment. It really hadn’t been that long ago he’d shared a space with his wife and daughter. It had taken seemingly forever to get used to the quiet of living alone, to get used to not having someone there when he got home. But this…this was even stranger. Jim occupying the apartment with him. Leonard didn’t even really know what he did when he was by himself; everything before now felt like a useless blur. 

 

He cooked another batch, filling up a syringe. He knew Jim would want it when he woke up, and there was no reason to make him wait. Leonard read the news on his tablet, glancing up at Jim every so often until he finally stirred awake. 

  
Jim shakily pushed himself up from the couch, heading for the bathroom. When he emerged again his hairline was damp like he’d splashed water on his face. He lingered on the bedroom doorframe, watching Leonard quietly. He asked the question wordlessly, if Leonard didn’t know better he might think Jim was embarrassed to voice it. 

 

“You want more?” Leonard questioned, his voice sounded gentler than he’d meant it to, even to his own ears.  

 

Jim looked away but nodded. 

 

“It’s okay. I’m not going to keep it from you.” 

 

Jim hugged his arms to his chest, a shiver running through his body. He kept his eyes averted. 

 

“Go on, kid. Sit down.” 

 

Jim finally made eye contact, taking the queue from Leonard’s gesture he shuffled over to the couch. He stopped just short of sitting, as though the the distance between his body and the cushions had become a canyon. Leonard paused too, two paces away from the table, medical supplies in one hand, loaded syringe in the other. 

 

“Are you…” Jim started. He took a shuddering breath, trying to adjust his tone to something less pathetic. “Are you really going to let me stay here?” 

 

Bones’ face went through no less than six emotions in the span of two seconds as he processed Jim’s question. He finally settled on a curiously raised eyebrow. “I thought I was pretty clear about that.” 

 

Jim didn’t backdown. He wanted to hear Bones say it again, he _needed_ Bones to tell him he could stay. Jim hadn’t needed anything, aside from heroin, that badly in a long time. 

 

“Yeah. Yes, Jim you can stay—as long as _you_ want to.” 

 

He let the words absorb before sitting down on Bones’ fancy couch. 

 

Bones watched him uneasily for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened. Jim couldn’t blame him, he was sure it had been an odd line of questioning, but he didn’t care. 

 

“Which arm?” he asked after a silence that stretched just a second too long. 

 

“They’re both sore,” Jim sidestepped.

 

Bones looked at him like he was trying to read Jim’s mind, predict his next move. “Where then?” 

 

Why was he stalling? It wasn’t like Jim would turn it down, the high, it was more about pushing Bones, seeing if he’d bend. 

 

Bones waited, hovering just in front of Jim. 

 

“My foot,” Jim finally conceded. 

 

Bones nodded and knelt down on the floor slowly. Jim presented his left foot. He had on socks he’d stolen from Bones’ dresser earlier. Bones had given him sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear, which was fine but Jim’s feet were always freezing, no matter how hot he ran. Bones didn’t say anything about the socks, just rolled one off and studied the bruises dotting the top of Jim’s foot. He picked a vein and cleaned the area with antiseptic before tying a tourniquet around his ankle. 

 

It was interesting, the way he was so concerned with procedure. Bones did it the same way every time he injected Jim. His eyes wandered to the capped syringe resting on Bones’ other thigh. Vaguely, Jim wondered when he’d made the drug injectable, Bones had obviously done it in anticipation of Jim wanting more. It sent a faint ping through his heart; he couldn’t remember the last time someone had prioritized him like that. 

 

Jim felt the bite of the needle, his feet were sensitive—he didn’t like shooting up there himself, the angle was weird, but it was nice when someone else did it—it only took few seconds before the heroin hit his bloodstream. The euphoria rushed him, enveloping his entire body, the whole room even. It was always strong and sweet when it was Bones’ product. He didn’t cut his smack, Jim knew what to expect when buying from Bones, everyone did, which was part of the reason Jim was willing to put forth effort to get it, even if that meant extra cash and alley blowjobs. It was a fantastic high. 

 

There was nothing, _nothing_ else that mattered. Just this room, this moment. Just Bones firmly pressing a gauze pad to Jim’s foot before bandaging the injected vein. Just the gentle feeling of his steady fingers flirting with Jim’s skin as he put the sock back on. Just the soft sound of the rain outside. Just nice, everything was good, everything was nice. 

 

Why had he been worried Bones wouldn’t let him stay? Bones wouldn’t hurt Jim, he never did. Sometimes he was rough, but Jim liked rough. Rough felt _close_ when he was like this. Rough didn’t hurt with Bones. _Besides_ , there was no malice behind it, he felt the soft touches when Bones thought he was asleep, the way he held Jim. The secret that maybe Bones wasn’t so rough after all. 

 

He watched Jim who stared out the window, fixated on the drops rolling down the glass intently with parted lips as Leonard discarded the gloves and gauze and needle. He got himself a glass of water before sitting down on the couch with Jim. 

 

He turned to look at Leonard slowly, as if time would wait as long as he needed. He moved closer to Leonard and Jim looked at him for a long moment, eyes glazed, before pressing a kiss to his mouth. It should have felt wrong, but it didn’t and Leonard leaned into it, sucking on Jim’s lower lip, Jim pulling the breath from his mouth with a small gasp. It was soft and hesitant, Leonard let Jim control it. Jim seemed somewhat apprehensive, like he wasn’t sure he was doing it right, but somehow, Leonard liked this more than it’s more confident counterpart. 

 

When Jim pulled away, breathing heavily, he rested his chin on Leonard’s shoulder. 

 

“Are we only gonna do this when you’re high?” Leonard asked, it wasn’t what he wanted to say. He wished he could take it back as soon as the words were out. 

 

“Why?” was all Jim could manage to ask. 

 

He didn’t want to talk about it, mostly because he didn’t have an answer for Bones. Jim wasn’t good when he wasn’t high, Bones didn’t want that Jim. _Jim_ didn’t even want that Jim. Instead, his fingers moved to Bones’ waistband, pulling at the buttons, before Bones stilled Jim’s hands with his own.

 

“Wait…” Bones sighed, despite his obvious erection.

 

“Shit, what? Do you want me to beg? Should I tell you how much I love sucking you?” It wasn’t that he didn’t, Bones had a nice cock, pretty, uncut with thick veins, he liked the way it filled up his throat, but he wasn’t big on begging.

 

Leonard huffed out an agitated breath, “I wouldn’t say no to that.” He really wouldn’t, Jim begging would be beautiful, but that wasn’t what made Leonard stall. “You don’t…I’ll keep giving you your shit whether you do this or not.”

 

Jim laughed wistfully. “That’s sweet,” he said, hands drifting back to the button-fly with a cynical look up at Leonard. 

 

“Listen kid, I’m not gonna say ‘no’ either,” Leonard said settling back into the cushions, “I like your mouth a whole hell of a lot, so go ahead.”

 

Jim eyed him for a minute, hands still on Bones’ crotch, the fabric the only thing keeping his hands from Bones’ cock. He could feel it straining against the denim, waiting for his mouth. They’d been doing this for so long, it felt wrong to take dope from Bones without blowing him. He was already flying—Jim had already gotten what he wanted—but as his mind swirled, he still wanted to make Bones feel good, like he’d made Jim feel good.

 

The buttons took Jim a minute, but finally he pushed the fabric aside and held Bones steady as he leaned over and swallowed him down. 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bones cursed. Thumping his head back against the couch cushions, he relaxed into the feeling of Jim's hot, insistent mouth. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And my decent into hell continues...  
> My deepest apologies for the incredibly long wait.  
> I'd say enjoy, but that feels wrong.

Leonard dragged Jim up for a sloppy kiss when he was done. Fuck, he shouldn’t like this as much as he did, he had no business liking it this much—liking Jim this much. He could taste himself on Jim’s tongue. Jim chased his mouth like the last seconds of daylight in winter. 

 

“Easy,” Leonard soothed, stoking his face gently. 

 

Jim waited a moment before darting in for another kiss. Bones’ mouth was so inviting, maybe it was just the drug talking, but he wanted to wrap himself up with this man for as long as he was allowed. Jim knew better than to push his luck though, he couldn’t be a nuisance, and he couldn’t make Bones think he needed him for anything other than H. Jim wouldn’t become dependent on anything else, least of all a person. 

 

He broke their kiss finally, amused as Bones gasped a bit. Without much finesse he tucked Bones back into his underwear, and rearranged himself so his head was pillowed on Bones’ thigh, not bothering to right the buttons on his pants. He busied his fingers playing with the small rip fraying on the right knee of Bones’ jeans. 

 

“Okay…?” Leonard muttered, trying to decide if that was comfortable. Jim seemed completely content, so he decided it was okay with him as well. He stretched for the remote, flipping the TV to a ridiculous medical drama. Despite the fact that it was far-fetched and romantically driven he’d actually begun to enjoy it over the past few years. What did that even say about him, did he miss the hospital or was he just that lonely?

 

He brushed his fingers through Jim’s hair, his mind churned out the same endless thought stream: _what are you going to do with him?_ Why couldn’t he figure out what the hell thought the end-game of this might be? And most importantly, what the ever loving fuck did he think he was doing getting involved with this kid? Jim made an agreeable noise somewhere between a moan and a plea. 

 

“You alright?” Leonard asked, suddenly realizing how one sided their interaction had been. “Do you need…do you want me to get you off?”

 

Jim let out a long, slow breath while he continued to draw invisible patterns in the denim. “No.”  

 

Leonard shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t. He got Jim high and Jim made him come, that was all. That was their deal, not that it held weight anymore, Leonard had crossed that line a while ago and there was no going back.

 

“You sure?” Leonard asked again despite himself. 

 

“I don’t want…I can’t—” Jim fumbled sorting his way through his thoughts was like pushing through cement. “Just watch your show.” 

 

He wasn’t upset, just lethargic. Jim really didn’t have the energy left to care about something so fleeting as an orgasm. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to come if he let Bones touch him, and Jim _definitely_ didn’t have the energy to deal with that. 

 

“Your hands felt nice,” Jim added belatedly when he realized Bones had stopped playing with his hair. 

 

And fuck, if that wasn’t the most endearing thing Jim had ever said to him. He just wanted to be touched, just simple human contact. Leonard was willing to give that, he was willing to give so much more than that, but he understood just needing another body, needing warmth and companionship. Slowly he started up again, lightly scratching his nails along Jim’s head. 

 

Hours passed, the low buzz of the TV covering them both like a blanket, easy and comforting. Every once in a while Jim would exert the energy required to pick up his head and glance at Leonard. He couldn’t tell what Jim was checking for, consciousness perhaps, that he was still watching the show? In any case, Leonard couldn't help but to find it sweet. 

 

“Come on kid, time for bed,” Leonard finally urged, shaking him lightly.

 

Jim didn’t look up at that. “With you?” he asked apprehensively. 

 

“Who else do you think has a bed here?”

 

Jim didn’t bother answering. He made no effort to move, but he’d gone entirely still. 

 

Leonard wondered if he’d said something wrong. “Look, you can sleep out here if you want, but I’m going to bed so you need to get up.” 

 

“Oh…” Jim mused, as though that hadn't occurred to him. He sat up and stretched slower than Leonard had ever seen a person move. “Are you gonna fuck me?” he asked his hands so far above his head the shirt Leonard had given him rode up past his navel. 

 

“You want me to?” Leonard asked, honestly wanting an answer. That hadn’t been what he was insinuating, but he could be persuaded if that’s what Jim wanted. 

 

Jim watched him turn off the TV, his hands dropping back into his lap. The distant glow of the streetlight making Bones look younger, softer. It made him feel like he could tell the truth. “No, not really.” 

 

He waited for Bones to get angry. Maybe to tell him to get out. Threaten him perhaps, no sex meant no drugs. But Bones instead rolled his neck so that it made a popping noise and stood up. “I wasn’t going to anyway. I’m tired. You coming to bed or not?”

 

It _seemed_ like he meant it, as odd that was. “Okay,” he relented. 

 

Bones offered his hand and pulled Jim up. He didn’t need the help, the dizzy part of the high had long since worn off, but he didn’t drop Bones’ hand until the reached the bed. Once in Bones’ room, Jim crawled under the covers as quickly. Laying on his side, he faced the window, trying not to take up too much space, enjoying the lingering alternate reality the high provided.

 

He could hear Bones removing his jeans but he didn’t look. The bed dipped and Jim waited to hear the telltale rip of foil, for Bones to roll him onto his stomach, to feel fingers pushing inside him. But nothing happened, Bones didn’t even move towards him. Jim snuck a glance over his shoulder to find him on his side with his back towards Jim. He felt— _disappointed_ wasn’t the word and _longing_ wasn’t quite it either—confused? Jim missed the contact, he wanted Bones to touch him. He wanted Bones to _want_ him. Why didn’t Bones want him? 

 

Just as Leonard felt himself on the brink of sleep, Jim moved closer and slung an arm around him. It was unexpected and Leonard managed not to flinch at the contact. He never knew what to expect from Jim. It was exhausting trying to predict his reactions, but like this Jim was almost sweet. Leonard allowed himself to relax against him pulling Jim’s arm tighter around him as verged on sleep. Leonard desperately trying to tell himself everything was fine, that this was normal, and that this gentle closeness they’d slipped into meant nothing. 

 

 

—

 

 

Leonard was taken aback by how much of a functional addict Jim was as long as he knew he another hit was coming. And Leonard always had another hit ready for him. 

 

Not only that, but he was surprised by how smart Jim was. Leonard had never thought Jim was dumb, but his intelligence was still a little shocking. The Sunday crosswords were always finished before Leonard woke up, the sudoku book Leonard kept half finished on the side table completely filled out. When Jim watched the science channel he could spit out facts faster than the narrator could, granted that it wasn’t the first half hour of his trip. Jim ceased to be fully human for those stretches, his body the only thing tethering him to their plane of reality. That was clearly his favorite part, Leonard realized, the part where he didn’t have to be responsible for himself. The rest of his high was just a bonus.

 

Jim spent a fair amount of time reading Leonard’s old medical journals and textbooks. _Actually_ reading them, not just flipping through them aimlessly. Leonard felt bad after the first week, even he thought those were a little dull, there was only so much of that a person could read. He handed over his tablet, unlocked, to Jim cautiously, half expecting Jim to run out the door with the electronic and never come back, but he hadn’t. He’d just turned out a small smile and tapped at it interestedly. When Leonard snooped through it while Jim was in the shower it turned out he’d downloaded crime novels, of all things, and had watched a lifestream of a UN session. 

 

It had only taken two weeks before he’d given Jim the access code to the building, although he had a sneaking suspicion that somehow Jim already knew it. Leonard didn’t like Jim being cooped up in the apartment, he wasn’t a prisoner after all. He was just Leonard’s…well Leonard wasn’t sure what Jim was. An annoyance that turned out not to be so annoying? His accidental roommate? The heroin addict who he supplied and occasionally— _more_ than occasionally, if he was being honest—had sex with? 

 

“What if I don’t come back?” Jim asked, voicing Leonard’s very concern as he wrote the code on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge. 

 

“It’s your life,” he said staunchly. “I’m not going to force you to stay here.”

 

Jim’s pupil’s seems to dilate a bit as he stared Bones down. “But…I can come back.”

 

“Are you asking?” 

 

Jim didn’t respond, just picked at his cuticles as he watched Bones. 

 

“Of course you can,” he finally relented, “Why would I bother with this if you couldn’t?” 

 

“I don’t pretend to know what you’re thinking, Bones,” Jim said flippantly. He knew he was pushing his luck. It was another habit that he couldn’t seem to break, pushing people until they pushed back. Maybe he wanted Bones to push back, push him down, remind Jim what he was. 

 

He looked at Jim hesitantly, as though he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to say what was so clearly on the tip of his tongue. “I want you to come back,” he finally managed. Bones’ cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink. 

 

Wasn’t that sickeningly delightful? He’d somehow managed to convince Bones he was worth holding onto. Worth anything at all. Jim actively ignored the way his stomach jumped to his throat.

 

“Where else would I go?” Jim asked. He’d meant it to sound coy, but it came out sad. 

 

 

—

 

 

Maybe at first it had seemed Leonard was getting the raw end of their arrangement. After all, he was putting himself out to bankroll Jim’s drug habit—Jim’s very intense drug habit—he took care of rent, and food. He paid for everything, of course, it wasn’t as though Jim had any money. And while Leonard technically had unrestricted access to Jim’s body, it became almost immediately clear he wasn’t going to take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. It wasn’t Leonard’s style. It made him uncomfortable, truth be told, to use Jim in that way. Jim wasn’t a toy, regardless of how flippantly Leonard might have treated him at first. It was different now, now that he saw Jim at all stages, now that he wasn’t just a warm mouth. Leonard had always known he was more than that, but it had been easier to pretend when they’d been outside, Jim on his knees, Bones turning a gram over between his fingers. These days, Jim was hot and cold about what he would allow and when, and Leonard let him have that. It wasn’t as though Jim was any less arousing and beautiful, in some ways he was even more so now. He’d started to put on a little weight, perhaps a reflection of Leonard’s take out habit more than anything else, but it looked good on him. 

 

Another surprise was that Jim could cook. Leonard wasn’t one for cooking, long nights in hospitals had made take-out and freezer meals his best friends. After the divorce he hadn’t had much of an appetite at all, and lately he just couldn’t be bothered. But with unrestricted access to internet recipes and the grocery store Jim made sure they only ordered take out once a week. Leonard felt a bit guilty, as he always thought cooking seemed like a chore, but Jim seemed to like it. He swore it gave him something to do. The heroin didn’t seem to inhibit his desire to want to be busy, to experiment. Plus, Jim had only set of the smoke alarm once, when he’d tried to roast a red pepper on the open flame of the gas stove. 

 

Leonard didn’t let him go without smack. Jim could go a good five hours on one dose, and he’d come off it slowly. The way his eyes cleared and his expression morphed back into a pained scowl was an obvious sign it was time for more. He could easily shoot himself up, as Leonard didn’t bother locking up the prepped syringes, but Jim had taken to waiting for Leonard to be home. Waiting for Leonard to dose him. Leonard would be a liar if he said he didn’t like it. Heroin was one hell of a drug, he’d watched people lose everything for a hit, but Jim had, on more than one occasion, put off the high for for hours while he waited for Leonard to return. 

 

Jim wasn’t patient if he was dry when Leonard returned, rushing him at the door, his unsteady fingers grasping at Leonard’s arm as soon as he heard the latch. But Jim waited, and it pleased Leonard more than it had any right to. Leonard loved watching the needle slip into Jim’s vein, shining and hard. It was sick that he liked it, but he liked that Jim needed him, loved that he waited.

 

 

—

 

 

“I miss your cock,” Jim mused from the bed as Leonard sat to pull off his boots. 

 

“Time for another dose, then?” 

 

“Am I so transparent?”

 

Leonard threw his boot in the general direction of the closet. “You only want me when you’re high.” 

 

Jim stuck out his tongue. “I want you now, I’m not high.” 

 

“Yeah, but you don’t want me to fuck you now.” 

 

To that Jim didn’t answer, so the answer was obvious. It didn’t matter, he’d already known that. Leonard walked out after removing the second boot, to get his supplies. Jim took a minute or two but followed him out into the living room, watching. 

 

“Why do you always do that?” Jim asked. 

 

“Hm?”

 

“The cleaning, and the gloves. I never used to do all that and I was always fine.”

 

Leonard raised an eyebrow, “Half of your skin was infected when I met you, I’d say you weren't fine.”

 

“So you say…”

 

“I’m a doctor—a surgeon—or I used to be one at least.”

 

Jim looked genuinely interested. “No shit?”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Doctor to dealer, I guess that’s a natural progression right?” he asked, sitting down. 

 

“Made a lot more as a surgeon.”

 

“Yeah but then you wouldn’t have met me.”

 

“You want this or not?” Leonard asked holding up the syringe.

 

Jim went quiet, holding out his hand. He sighed as the needle broke skin, shivering as Leonard injected him, almost as though he wanted to lean into the sensation but knew better. Leonard watched, enraptured, for those first few seconds _Jim_ disappeared. Jim ceased to exist as a person, his body remained but he was gone. He was energy and stars and time all swirling together. 

 

“Are you glad you met me?” Jim asked softly when the tide of the first rush brought him back in. He leaned in to punctuate the question with a kiss. 

 

Leonard stilled his face with a hand on Jim’s cheek. “Yes darlin’,” he whispered, his lips so close to Jim’s he could reach them with his tongue.

 

“I need another,” Jim said breathlessly, sagging back into the couch. 

 

“Rough day?” 

 

“ _Bones_.” 

 

“Alright, hold your horses.” He moved away unwillingly and uncapped another syringe. Jim was fluid when he turned back, already merging with the couch, but Jim had asked for more, and who was Leonard to say no? He picked up Jim’s hand from where it lay on the cushion and repeated the injection. Jim moaned as Leonard emptied the second barrel into his bloodstream. 

 

If Leonard hadn’t already been turned on, he certainly was now. 

 

—

 

Their intimacy was a problem. 

 

Well, it was less of a problem and more so that he really wasn’t sure how it fit into this whole vaguely domestic equation. They slept together in Leonard’s bed most nights, except when one or both of them fell asleep on the couch. Jim wanted to be high when they fucked, and he almost always wanted to fuck while he was high. Leonard wasn’t one to turn it down. Especially since sex with Jim was always good. Jim liked it rough, and rough was all Leonard had left to give.

 

That wasn’t even the problem. 

 

The problem was kissing. It only happened when Jim was really strung out, the soft, patient kisses that were quiet and exploratory. When Jim would run his hands through Leonard’s hair, as he tried to breathe him in, mapping Leonard’s mouth with his tongue. Leonard could always tell how high Jim was by how he kissed him. 

 

And Leonard supposed that even _that_ in and of itself wasn’t really the problem either. 

 

No, the heart of the problem was how much Leonard liked it. How much he’d come to need Jim’s body beneath him, on top of him, _around_ him. Sometimes he’d overlap doses just to get Jim back to the point he needed him at. He’d only done it twice, really push Jim’s limit for contact—and that was fucking terrifying. His hippocratic oath was shuddering somewhere in the distance. 

 

Sex with Jim was a whole ordeal. The first time had been an anomaly, he’d come so quickly. When Jim was high he could last forever. Leonard could, and had, orgasmed three times before Jim had even thought about coming, on more than one occasion. But Jim always sighed and grabbed and moaned begging for, “ _more_ , Bones, more _please_.” Jim liked the contact, the touching and the sensation, even when he couldn’t come. And _fuck_ if Leonard didn’t love it. Jim was always a mess of come and sweat and spit when they were through—beautiful, and ruined, and blitzed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make no mistake, it's still dark like the rest of this story has been, but I enjoyed writing this chapter way too much if I'm being honest
> 
> Sorry it's been one hundred fucking years since I updated. Who is surprised? Literally no one.
> 
> warning: Bones gets stoned in this chapter. After everything else it seems like a small thing to warn for, but still...

Jim being perpetually strung out made Leonard a little jealous. It had been a while since he’d gotten stoned. For Leonard, being high alone was sad and isolating, it made him paranoid. But something about the far away look in Jim’s eyes was inviting, it made Leonard want to go with him. Not with heroin—No, that would be irresponsible and dangerous. He saw how Jim couldn’t put it down, how his other customers always came crawling back. He knew people lost everything for one more smack high. No, he wouldn’t go that far down the rabbit hole, but he remembered getting absolutely couch-locked with his friends in med-school. It had been fun, they’d laughed and talked for hours. Maybe he was chasing a time long gone, but Leonard wanted to be happy like that again. It wouldn’t make whatever they had less complicated but Leonard was sure it would feel great. 

 

He lit up one night after shooting Jim into oblivion. Jim was gone to somewhere far, far away and didn't look up—or perhaps didn’t care—that Leonard was smoking on the sofa next to him. He took it in slow, deep puffs. His body remembered how to hold the smoke in his lungs, he could almost feel as they absorbed the THC. Leonard twisted the joint loosely in his fingers, watching the way the smoke curled as it drifted upwards. He’d almost forgotten how this felt, the high taking over his senses. Jim's hair looked so soft, his skin so _alive_ , just inches from his fingertips, but too far to reach. Leonard took another puff off the joint, watching the center light up cherry red. Soon enough everything felt slow and winding, time stretching out into forever. 

 

The music he’d put on earlier swallowed him up. He felt each beat in his pulse, every note in a separate part of his body. He sighed into it, sinking back into the couch. After a while, Jim pushed himself over to Leonard, hand resting on his shoulder. He stared at Leonard for what felt like a year, really looking. Down deep into the depths of Leonard’s soul, possibly, and he smiled. He brushed his finger’s on Leonard’s heavy hand before leaning in to kiss his open mouth. 

 

And wasn’t that a fucking rush? Jim’s lips were slick and plush, his tongue moving slowly but all encompassing against his own. Leonard could feel the blood rushing to his groin as Jim kissed him, acutely aware of the gradual swelling of his cock. He felt his fingers pushing into Jim’s hair before he’d even registered them moving from his sides. Leonard had never fucked anyone high, but now seemed as good a time as any to try it. He wanted Jim to make every part of him electric, like his mouth. He heard himself moaning completely involuntarily, so caught up in Jim’s touches, so _overwhelmed_ , that he simply couldn’t hold the sound back. 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Jim heard Bones say longingly. They were too close to be bothering with words, Jim wanted to kiss him until he forgot how to breath. “Why do you stay with me when you’re so beautiful?” 

 

“You’re the only one who wants me,” Jim answered. He’d never been good at holding his tongue, not when he was sober, especially not when he was fucked up. 

 

Bones looked concerned for a moment, like that upset him. “Oh darlin’, I do want you,” Bones told him with entirely too much sincerity.

 

Jim kissed him again, slowly, until the look went back to washed out bliss. 

 

“Want you to fuck me,” Bones said reverently, “Want to feel you everywhere.” 

  
Jim was already hard, he wasn’t entirely sure when that had happened. He wouldn’t have even been sure Bones was high, if he hadn’t smelled the pot as it wafted through the air. Wasn’t even sure he knew Bones smoked, but he didn’t know anything about the man when it really came down to it. Jim remembered what it was like to be fourteen and stoned. Remembered how calm he’d been, how for the first time it felt like maybe he wouldn’t have to stay grounded on the awful plane of reality he’d been born to. Jim remembered how it had felt to fuck when he was baked, how goddamn good it had been, how many times he’d always come. And Bones wanted that, wanted Jim to make him feel like that. He reached for the presumptuous bottle of lube and sheet of condoms on the side table, there were always there these days, so Bones never had to reach too far before sinking inside Jim’s waiting hole. 

 

Leonard’s body opened to Jim like it hadn’t to anyone in damn near ten years. Jim’s slim fingers were steadier than he’d imagined, and they filled him up better than he’d thought they would. Leonard moaned and stretched out his body undulating before Jim like he was caught up in soft waves. He couldn’t help the breathlessness that blanketed him, Leonard reminded himself he had to breath.

 

He could feel Jim, his fingers, for what felt like an eternity pressing inside him, and then his cock. Unyielding and hot as it pushed past the puckered ring of muscle. And, jesus, he’d never felt like this, and it wasn’t the fullness—he’d had that, he’d been fucked plenty to know what that was like. His body wanted Jim, one leg thrown over the back of the couch and the other pressed to his chest in a way he was sure he couldn't have tolerated without the high. Jim thrust at a steady pace and Leonard clenched, trying to keep him inside. Every one of his nerves lit up, desperate for the friction and burn. 

 

Jim ran his finger’s over Leonard’s lips, stroking his mouth. In a way, somehow it felt more sensual than Jim’s cock inside him, pushed him even closer to the edge. 

 

“Quiet,” Jim muttered, smirking a little. “God you’re _loud_.”

 

Leonard swallowed and the white noise around him stoped, he wondered how long he’d been moaning. He didn’t care, didn’t even know how long they’d been doing this. He never wanted it to end. 

 

His orgasm lapped at the edge of his consciousness, teasing. Neither of them had touched his cock, Leonard didn’t seem to need to. He didn’t want to let go of Jim’s arm’s, was sure that if he did he’d topple out of existence. There was only Jim. Only this feeling—intense and all consuming.

 

Jim was inside him, and around him all at the same time, his body felt like it was part of Leonard’s, sparking and shaking him on a spiritual level. On one particularly deep thrust Leonard came between them and the wall of feeling hit him like an earthquake. He trembled as the pleasure jolted through him, surging down into the tips of his toes, overwhelming and unbelievable. And it kept coming and coming, and Leonard heard himself begging for more, crying out. Each time Jim brushed across his prostate the feeling extended, Leonard wondered if he could stretch it out until he came down from the high. He hoped so as he gave himself back over to the feeling. 

  
It took several minutes for the release to stop, for him to come off it, to be able to see Jim’s blissed out face in above him. It had felt like the longest orgasm of his life, he would never be able to forget how it felt, clinging to it, tucking it around him. Jim slowed just a bit, forehead pressed against Leonard’s chest. 

  
“Keep going,” Leonard told him breathlessly, and Jim obliged easily. 

 

The distorted sense of time and movement made it feel like Jim could push even farther inside, until they merged into one boundless being. He didn’t understand how everything still felt so good. Leonard couldn’t focus on anything except Jim’s lips on his mouth, Jim’s breath rushing into his lungs as he gasped and clenched. That was until Jim touched his cock, and then it was just that, Jim’s fingers, each graze against his length felt like a shockwave rushing through him. He hadn’t realized how gentle his first release had been. Jim stroking him was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Too exceptional to stay entirely present through it. 

 

He came more times than he could count, each orgasm seemed to build off the last. Leonard couldn’t tell if the act was prolonged or if he just recovered faster than he ever had in his life. The whole act was a continuous swirl of euphoria that didn’t seem to end, twisting him up for a delirious eternity. 

 

“Darlin’, _darlin’_ ,” Leonard pleaded breathlessly.

 

Jim kissed him languidly. Leonard’s brain was unable to process all the stimulation, _fuck_ it was just so much. 

 

“Too much,” he gasped, managing somehow to pull away from Jim’s soft, perfect mouth. “Need you to come.” He couldn’t say he needed Jim to stop. He didn’t _want_ Jim to stop, but this _had_ to end. Leonard was sure if it didn’t he would pass out. 

 

“Oh…sorry…” Jim blinked slowly at him, “I’m pretty sure I can’t right now…too much dope.” 

 

Jim pulled unhurriedly out of him, Leonard’s muscle sore and spasming at the emptiness. He groaned and relaxed, allowing himself to feel the cushions and the couch for the first time in hours. God, it felt weird to be disconnected now. His high was definitely waning. Jim ditched his condom on the coffee table before curling up next to him, head pillowed on Leonard’s arm. 

 

“You think you can come if I blow you?” Leonard offered. 

 

Jim let out a long breath, “Probably not. It’s fine, you felt really good. It was enough like that.” 

 

“For me too,” Leonard sighed, kissing Jim’s jaw gently. 

 

“I could tell.” Jim nuzzled against him, “Keep touching me.” 

 

“I’m tired, I wanna sleep.”

 

“Touch me until you fall asleep.” 

 

Leonard hummed in agreement, letting his fingers trace a haphazard line down Jim’s back. “You don’t come enough,” he said wistfully. 

 

Jim dug his nails into Bones’ stomach just to see the half-moon indents they left. “Yeah, but I get smack.” 

 

“So?”

 

“It’s better than an orgasm—better than _anything_ else, Bones.”

 

“You come three times in a row and then tell me dope is better.” 

 

“I’d have to be sober to manage that,” Jim sighed.

 

“And you don’t like being sober,” Leonard echoed. It wasn’t really a question. 

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“You could smoke,” Leonard offered, gesturing vaguely to the nub of his joint that was still left on the table, “Wouldn’t have to be completely sober.”

 

Jim didn’t want to laugh at Bones when he was being nice, but weed hadn’t cut it since he was a teenager. “It’s not the same.”

 

“I know.” Leonard let his nails drag against the nape of Jim’s neck, making him shiver. “You’re a good fuck, you know that?”

 

At that Jim did let himself laugh. “Kinda figured, since you let me stay here.”

 

“That’s not why I let you stay.”

 

Jim had had a sneaking suspicion, but he still liked hearing it. “Why, then?”

 

Leonard shook his head. “I’m not high enough to tell you that.” 

 

Jim hoped…well, he didn’t know what he hoped anymore really. He felt safe like this, laying on real furniture, surrounded by solid walls that he almost dared to call his own. Jim wasn’t sure he’d ever really felt safe, only able to admit that now when he finally did. Bones was _good_. Good in bed, good at shooting him up, good at caring. Too good for him. 

 

He really did wonder why Bones did this. There was no good reason. It was a terrible deal for Bones, who not only supported his drug addiction but also put up with him in general. He wondered if Bones truly couldn’t articulate it, or if it was something darker, something he didn’t want to admit to either of them.

 

 

—

 

 

Leonard found he liked coming home to someone, or rather, he liked coming home to _Jim_. 

 

They’d fallen into an easy rhythm. Jim usually cooked dinner earlier in the day, while Leonard was out, late enough into his high to be productive but early enough to be  properly functional. Leonard would come home, shoot Jim up and let the him float in nonexistence while Leonard counted the cash, divided his cut out, and got his affairs in order. Dinner would get heated and they’d watch bad TV on the couch afterwards. 

 

“Did your school look like that?” Leonard asked. They were watching an intolerably cheesy drama about high school, and magic, and romance. Leonard did _not_ like it, except for the fact that he absolutely did.

 

“Hmm?” Jim asked spacing back in. 

 

“Like this palace?” Leonard asked, gesturing to the tv with his fork. “Mine didn’t."

 

Jim watched for a few seconds, actively processing the show and it’s setting. “One of them did.” 

 

“No,” Leonard clarified, "Your high school.”

 

“One of the high schools I went to.”

 

“Did you get kicked out?” Leonard teased, “Too smart for your own good?”

 

Jim looked at him with mild disdain. “You think they kick people out for being too smart? I know you’re old but you’re not stupid.”

 

“ _Rude_. Maybe for being too much of a smart- _ass_ then.”

 

“Yeah well, maybe if I’d stayed at one long enough that might have been a problem.”

 

“So, what the fuck does that mean?”

 

Jim huffed, why was Bones making this so hard on both of them? “Bones, come on, seriously? You’re gonna make me spell it out for you?”

 

Leonard was genuinely confused now, “I guess you’re gonna have to.”

 

“Every time they put me in a different home I had to move schools, sometimes they were nice and but mostly they looked like the normal shitty dumps.” 

 

“When they…” Leonard started his eyes narrowing a bit, “Shit…oh _fuck_ , like foster homes?”

 

“Yeah, asshole,” he muttered turning away.

 

“Jim—”

 

 “It’s fine. I figured you knew. I give off that street rat vibe pretty strong.” 

 

God, he did not want to have this fucking conversation with Bones. He’d had _enough_ of being the new, broken kid. Enough of explaining that his dad had died when he was a baby and that his mom had disappeared, leaving him with her absolute shithead of a boyfriend. He’d never told anyone that he’d run away, and that the police had found him and made him a fucking ward of the state when he was too little to know what that really meant. Jim hated explaining foster care, and talking about the families. How the nice ones could tell what he was, how fast they’d sent him away. How he’d stopped trying to make any of them like him after the third family, when it became clear he wasn’t ever going to have someone who wanted to keep him.

 

“Lots of people end up on the street that weren’t in foster care.” 

 

“Well what can I say? I’m a fucking cliche: fuck-up foster kid everyone knew better than to adopt, thrown from one shitty home to another until I aged out. Grew up to be a homeless heroin junkie, _poster child_ for the system if you ask me.” Jim picked at his one of his scabs, wishing Bones would say something. “Speaking of which, you’re really killing my buzz.” 

 

“I’m sorry…” Leonard didn’t know what else to say. 

 

Jim rolled his eyes, “Don’t be fucking _sorry_.” 

 

“Well what do you _want_ me to say?” 

 

“Listen, you found me on the street, I don’t know what you thought you were picking up. You didn’t get one of those assholes who’s rich parents suddenly cut them off or some sob-story who didn’t know what they were getting into. I’m trash, through and through.” Jim let up on the scab when he’d pulled the crust off and it started bleeding. “I really thought you knew.”  

 

Leonard didn’t say anything, he honestly hadn’t thought about it at all. Hadn’t thought about Jim’s past. Hadn’t thought back any farther than heroin junkie. That worried him a little, Leonard wasn’t usually a thoughtless person. 

 

“You know,” Jim started again, feeling a bit of frustration welling up, “You’re a goddamn cliche now too. Ex-doctor with a heart of gold, _saving_ the addict because he fucked up his own family.” 

 

Leonard flinched. Jim was right, but he didn’t want to think about it like that, didn’t like the taunt in Jim’s voice. “I’m not doing a very good job am I, since you’re still using?” 

 

Jim froze, eyes burning at Leonard like fire, “You cut me off and I’m _gone_.” 

 

“Yeah?” Leonard scoffed, “Back to where?” 

 

He hated how right Bones was. “I was doing just fine before you decided I was your heroin slut!” Jim fired back.

 

“Oh _I_ fucking decided that, did I?”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

The silence stretched into minutes. Leonard watched as Jim’s fingers started twitching, despite the fact that he was obviously trying not to move. Watched the trickle of blood roll down his arm. Leonard was too tired for fighting. He didn’t want to fight with Jim. Rationally he knew he’d just struck a raw nerve.

 

“You know we don’t have to fuck, right?” Leonard asked, as gently as he could without giving up his footing. “I know I’ve told you that.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“And you know I won’t cut you off?”

 

Jim bit his lip. He was not going to cry, he would not fucking cry. _Fuck Bones_ and how goddamn nice he was being, how fast he’d bowed out of their stupid fight. “I _can_ survive without you.” 

 

“Jim…”

 

He didn’t say anything, just looked at Leonard with wide, sad eyes. Jim tensed when Leonard stood, almost like he was waiting to be slapped. Instead Leonard came back with the usual: a tourniquet, gauze, and a full syringe. Jim chewed the cuticle of his thumb, just watching him. 

 

“Where?”

 

Jim made a tiny, almost imperceptible motion of shaking his head, almost like he was trying to convince himself he didn't need it. 

 

“ _Where_ , Jim?”

 

He exhaled through his nose, “Knee.”

 

Jim’s veins were much bigger in the soft bend of his knee. He must have really been hurting in his usual spots, because Leonard knew it freaked him out to see the needle in his knee. Jim always watched. Leonard liked that too.

 

Leonard wrapped the band around the tapered part of his leg where his thigh became his knee, getting the needle ready when Jim covered Leonard’s hand with his own. Jim never interfered when he was this close to fresh dose. 

 

“Fuck me after,” he said, his lip quivering a bit. “Mark me up, I want to really feel it.” 

 

Leonard nodded. He pushed Jim’s hand away before breaking his skin with needle. Jim’s startled gasped turned into one of his soft moans when the solution rushed his system. _Fuck_ , the things that did to Leonard. He watched Jim melt into nothingness as the cylinder emptied. Watched the fight and pain and the clarity evaporate and Leonard felt his own heartbeat speed up. Leonard was so far beyond gone, Jim was more addicting than any drug he’d ever pushed into a vein. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is appreciated, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, _I'm sorry_ , thank you everyone for waiting! 
> 
> As always, but specifically for this chapter, please heed the tags. This chapter is pretty dark.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

 

“About what?” Jim said barely looking up from Leonard’s tablet.

 

“About being a foster kid.” 

 

Jim looked like he’d just eaten a mouthful of salt. “ _No_.”

 

Leonard should have expected that honestly. “Was it that bad?”

 

“No, _fuck._ Bones. I just— _why_ would I want to talk about that? It’s nothing I want to remember.” Jim sighed, catching the concerned look on Bones’ face, “I didn’t have it too bad. None of the families ever molested me or starved me or any of that shit. But it still just fucking sucked. Constantly shuffled around because nobody wanted me, that messes a kid up.”

 

“I’ll bet.” 

 

“You wanna tell me about your childhood?” Jim countered. 

 

“No.” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because it was boring and idyllic and it’ll make me feel like an asshole.” 

 

“That’s fair,” Jim said with a smirk. It nice to turn the tables on him every once in a while, at least Bones knew it would make him sound like an asshole. 

 

Leonard didn’t want to leave it there. He could have, probably _should_ have, but he didn’t. “Wanna tell me about the first time you used?”

 

Jim’s face lit up like a city square, “The first time I used _what_?”

 

“Whatever you want, I bet you’ve got a few stories.”

 

“More than a few, there’s pretty much nothing I haven’t tried.” 

 

“Well go on then, regale me.” 

 

 

—

 

 

Jim was sixteen. He’d ditched math class for the third time that week, like they were going to teach him something he didn’t already know? Please. Today he was with Brett Sigmund, they were planning to go back to his house. Brett’s mom wasn’t home, she worked all the time. At least she did something, not like his good-for-nothing current family. 

 

They’d do whatever they had, usually just weed, especially when Eugene and Anthony were with them. They’d head to the junkyard, light up a couple joints, sit around in the broken cars and talk and laugh and laze around. It was a nice escape, nice to pretend like he had friends.

 

But when it was just him and Brett, Brett would break out the coke. He wouldn’t fuck Jim unless they were good and hopped up—“I’m not a fag,” Brett always insisted, “coke makes me horny, and you’re here”—and Jim _really_ liked being fucked. Brett wasn’t the greatest top, but Jim had been placed here with the Diazs two months ago, and he could tell he was already getting on their last nerve. It wasn’t worth finding someone else when he’d be gone in the next two weeks.

 

That day though, Brett produced another small bag full of an unfamiliar brown, grainy powder. 

 

“I got something new,” Brett told him matter-of-factly, “It’s smack.”

 

Jim hesitated at first. One of his early foster fathers had been a functional heroin addict, always spending their last dime to get another hit. It had been the drug Jim had been wary of. But Jim wasn’t some asshole, taking in state kids for the check, he could handle himself. 

 

“I want to try it with you,” Brett had nudged, “You’ll like it, you like everything.” 

 

He had a point, Jim hadn’t met a drug he didn’t like. Plus, they weren’t going to shoot it up, no needles, Jim didn’t much like needles. They were just going to snort it. 

 

“Okay,” Jim said with a shrug. 

 

It was so different than coke, the euphoria took a little longer to hit after the first bump. So much so Brett complained about it not working, and they’d snorted more. When the high did hit it was the most intense rush he’d ever experienced. It was like a dream, like his body was everywhere and nowhere all at once. Like he wasn’t a person and he didn’t need to be. 

 

Then Jim vomited. 

 

Brett looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “The _fuck_ , dude?” 

 

Jim stood, he felt unsteady, he walked over to the sink to rinse his mouth out. Then he snorted another line. It didn’t matter that he’d just puked on the tile floor, the only thing that mattered was this unearthly, half-there feeling. 

 

He made it to the carpet of the living room before laying himself flat. The rug was plush against his cheek, pulling him in, swallowing him up. Jim thought he could probably lay there for the rest of his life and be completely happy. 

 

Brett had definitely fucked him at some point during the high. He felt the pressure and the slide and the weight of the boy on top of him. Jim didn’t come, didn’t have the want or need to. His cock was hard, trapped between his body and the floor, rubbing as Brett thrust into him lazily. Sex didn’t matter, Brett didn’t matter. The floor wasn’t real, life was new and shiny again. Jim felt so good, so gone.

 

“I woke up on the floor, it was dark out. House smelled like vomit and my whole body hurt. I wasn’t even sure I was going to be able to walk,” Jim said with a half smile. 

 

“That sounds _awful_ ,” Leonard told him, shaking his head, absently squeezing Jim’s leg. 

 

“It was great. Oh Bones, it was so _fucking_ good.” Jim leaned into him, closing his eyes for a second to let his breathing sync up with Leonard’s. “I took what was left in the bag, oh man, he was so pissed that I took his stash.” Jim laughed fondly, “It didn’t matter, I got moved at the end of the week.”

 

“Puking didn’t put you off it, huh?” 

 

Jim hummed for a second, “It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered after the rush.” 

 

“That’s still how it feels?” Leonard mused 

 

“Every time, every single time.” 

 

 

—

 

 

"Leo?" 

 

He didn't look up, they had to be talking to someone else. No one called him that anymore. 

 

"Leonard McCoy! It _is_ you! Oh my god, how the hell have you been?"

 

His eyes set on the blonde woman walking over to him. "Chapel?" he said with disbelief. 

 

"Well shit, you do remember me!"

 

"Of course Christine, I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

 

She smiled as she turned his chin with her fingers. ”You look about a hundred, time has not been kind."

 

"Ha ha. You look great."

 

"I do, thanks!”

 

Leonard actually laughed at that. He hadn't thought about her in a long time. Not since Ole Miss, before he'd fucked up his life and thrown away his goals. God, he was glad he was seeing her now, and not a year ago. He didn't want anyone to see that person. Not that this version of himself was much better.

 

"Are you busy? Do you want to get a drink and catch up?"

 

Leonard glanced at his phone, he really had to go back. Jim would be shaking mess if he went out with her now.

 

"Fuck, I can’t.” He looked up at her with real disappointment, “Believe me, I want to.”

 

"Gotta hurry home? Still with Jocelyn?"

 

"Ah...no. But I do have to get home." 

 

"Give me your phone, text me when you want to reschedule."

 

"Does being that forward still work for you?" Leonard asked, handing his phone over all the same.

 

"Oh yeah, it's right to the point. Ladies appreciate that, plus they don't have to give me _their_ number, less pressure."

 

"You seeing anyone Christine?" 

 

"Ah," she said punching in her number to his phone, "You'll have to get a drink with me to find out."

 

"That's fair. I'll see you later, promise.”

 

She beamed as he took the six-pack he was holding up to the counter. “Holding you to that, Leo!”

 

 

—

 

 

They’d been out of Nutella. Bones had told him he’d get it in the morning—or rather the afternoon when they both woke up—but Jim _needed_ Nutella. He needed it like a drug, that shit was almost as addictive as heroin, he’d laughed as he thought to himself. There was a corner store four blocks from the apartment, not a bad walk, and he’d gone out. Jim had made it to the store, all the way to the aisle with the chocolate-hazelnut goo when he’d bumped into Gary. Literally knocked into him. The man had turned like he might tell him off, but stopped when he caught sight of Jim’s arm. He’d been wearing a t-shirt, he didn’t give a fuck about the scars. Gary had followed the track marks upwards, eyes coming to a rest on Jim’s. He’d grinned. 

 

“I’ve got some. Wanna come have fun with me?” Gary had said with a vagueness that could only mean dope and sex.

 

He wasn’t badly dressed, didn’t look like a junkie. Didn’t look like the kind of person Jim was used to offering him drugs. Jim shouldn’t go with him, obviously. He should go back home, back to Bones. Bones would give him more now if he asked, even though he was still plenty high. Bones would fuck him, of course. Hell, Bones would probably feed him Nutella off his goddamn finger if Jim asked. There was absolutely no reason to go with Gary. 

 

“Yeah, sure,” Jim said.

 

They’d exchanged names at some point. Names and spit and sweat and come. A fresh wave of H—it hadn’t been as good as what Bones slung—that he’d had to inject himself. A fuck that was honestly fantastic but missing _something_. He’d stayed too long, Gary passed out next to him, not caring as he found his clothes and all but fell out of the bed. His head hurt a little, his head shouldn’t hurt when he was high. He wanted Bones, wanted safe arms around him.

 

Jim stumbled into their bedroom. He was impressed he’d made it all the way back to the apartment, that he hadn’t collapsed in an ally somewhere on the way back.

 

“Go take a shower,” Bones ordered as Jim crept over to the bed.

 

Jim tried to sit down. 

 

“ _Take a shower_ so you don’t get whatever _filth_ is on you on my sheets.”

 

Jim managed a halfhearted shower, He wanted to sleep, he wanted Bones to stop talking in that angry voice. He went back to bed naked and damp, falling against the mattress. 

 

“You’re mad at me.”

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Leonard said through gritted teeth.

 

“Don’t be mad at me,” Jim said sadly.

 

“I don’t understand,” Leonard said instead of the any of the mess of thoughts nagging him, “What am I not giving you?” 

 

“It’s not your fault. I fuck everything up.” Jim turned over towards Leonard. 

 

“Go to sleep,” Leonard told him, pulling the blanket up over Jim. 

 

“I’m so—”

 

“ _Go to sleep_.”

 

Ironically, Leonard couldn’t sleep, just laid there as Jim did. He was frustrated with Jim of course, but mostly with himself. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that Jim fucked other people, why _he_ needed to be the one to shoot Jim up. They weren’t exclusive, whatever the fuck that meant in this absolutely unstructured relationship. Leonard wasn’t even sure he should call it that. He didn’t want Jim to get hurt. He needed Jim to need him. 

 

Jim made a awful sound, shaking Leonard from his thoughts. It was a bone-rattling snore which was alarming because Jim didn’t ever snore. Leonard jostled him to make the sound stop, but it didn’t. It almost sounded like he couldn’t breath. He sat up, looking at Jim who’s eyes were fluttering a bit against his stock-still body. Leonard shook him again and got no response. 

 

He was up like a shot. Suddenly realizing exactly what was happening. “Fuck! No, no, _no!_ Jim don’t do this!”

 

Leonard turned Jim to his side in case he vomited. He sprinted to the kitchen, tearing through the cabinet for the Naloxone. He ran back to the room, watching Jim as he filled a syringe. Leonard’s breathing was tight, forcing himself to focus. He jammed the needle into Jim’s thigh, making sure it hit muscle so he could administer it. 

 

“Please darlin’,” he begged. Maybe if he said it loud enough it would be true, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

 

He watched the clock as he waited, each minute seemed to take a year. Two minutes passed before he finally heard Jim gasp in a proper breath. Then another. Leonard felt tears rolling down his cheek. _Too close_. Much, much too close. He couldn’t lose Jim, he could _not_ lose Jim. 

 

Jim moaned a little, shifting. His arm twitched, like he was trying to reach for something.

 

“Bones?” he asked weakly. 

 

“Shhh, shh _shhh_ you’re fine.” 

 

“What…are you…?” 

 

“Just stay there, keep taking deep breaths. What did you take? How much did you take?”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Jim _please_ , fucking tell me.” 

 

“You’ll…get mad.”

 

“I won’t, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I _promise_.”

 

“What did you do to me?” Jim rubbed his thigh absently, “Why…why do I feel like absolute shit?”

 

“You overdosed, dammit. I thought you were dying! You _were_ dying! What did you take?” 

 

Jim paled considerably, which was saying something in his current state. “I…I don’t know what it was. It was great until it wasn’t. I mean it was smack but it burned like hell going in.”

 

“Fuck, how long ago?” _Jesus_. It could have been anything. Probably fentanyl, since it had stopped with the Naloxone, but Leonard couldn’t be sure. 

 

“Maybe…an hour? I don’t know. I need to…take my skin off. I feel _horrible_ , everything hurts.”

 

“Yeah, that’s called withdrawal.” 

 

“Well, _fuck_ Bones, give me…some of your shit.”

 

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? You overdosed! You’re literally in the middle of an overdose. I’m going to have to watch you all night to make sure you don’t slip back into it, and you think I’m going to give you _more_ dope?”

 

Jim whined, his whole body convulsing a little. “ _I don’t know_.” He looked like he was going to cry, “I don’t know…it _hurts_.”

 

“I know. Come on, sit up, we’ll get you through this.” 

 

“I hate you,” Jim spat, trying futilely to push Bones away. He didn’t, but he hated that Bones wouldn’t give him more drugs. Rationally, he understood, but the dependency made Jim hate him. 

 

Leonard held him tighter. “That’s fine. You’re alive, so I don’t care if you hate me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said hugging his arms to his chest. His muscles _ached_ , he was so hot.

 

“It’s okay.” 

 

“How long until I can have more?”

 

Leonard sighed, it was going to be a long night. “Just get through the next five minutes.” 

 

“Then what?” 

 

“Then you know you can get through the _next_ five minutes.”

 

Jim whimpered. “I hate this.” 

 

Leonard set his jaw, knowing it would only get worse. He watched the clock like it was his job, not wanting the Naloxone to wear off before Jim’s overdose had ended. It would be another four hours at least. Thirty minutes later Jim was an absolute shivering mess, but still conscious. He wouldn’t stop talking, a lot of it was nonsense but occasional he’d get coherent. 

 

“My mom’s boyfriend used to…hurt me,” Jim said slowly. He couldn’t look up from the sheets, couldn’t look at Bones. He felt like he was dying, despite Bones assuring him otherwise. He didn’t want to die having never told anyone. 

 

Bones petted his hair, not saying anything. He seemed to know better at this moment. 

 

“I don’t know what happened. One day she just…didn’t come back. Frank would make me sleep outside…when he got mad at me. Which was a lot. I was a shitty kid, angry. I wrecked his car one day. I was ten…he hit me so hard he knocked a tooth out.” Jim wheezed a laugh, “It grew back. I ran away…after the third time. I was already used to being on my own. I thought _anything_ had to be…better than being hit.” Jim looked at Bones finally. He could feel his nose running, maybe he was crying, he couldn’t tell. Bones watched him with sad eyes. “I was wrong. I should’ve stayed.” 

 

“You didn’t deserve to be hit.” 

 

“I…probably did.” 

 

“You _didn’t_. You don’t deserve any of the shit that’s happened to you.” 

 

Jim was defiantly crying, but he couldn’t find the strength to lift his arm to wipe the tears. God, this was fucking embarrassing. He really couldn’t take care of himself, he was so broken.

 

“I don’t…wanna talk anymore.” 

 

“That’s okay.” 

 

“I want to sleep.” 

 

“I can’t let you.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You’re allowed.” 

 

Jim was shaking again. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this. He definitely couldn’t do it alone. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want Bones to leave. “I don’t…hate you.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

After an hour Jim’s pulse started to go a little haywire and he nodded out for a second. Leonard sighed and injected him again with more of the blocker. Jim knew what was going on when he came to again, and he hated it even more. He’d had a brief taste of the opioid rush. Leonard knew he didn’t care that it was trying to kill him, he just wanted to be high. 

 

“I’m gonna puke,” Jim muttered. Bones all but carrying him to the bathroom just in time for Jim to retch the contents of his stomach into the toilet. It was fucking horrible. Jim hadn’t thought he could feel worse than before, but somehow he did.

 

“Do you have any weed?” Jim asked. He was desperate, anything to take this white-hot edge off would do.

 

Leonard huffed, as he held Jim up against the toilet. “Not for you.” 

 

“ _Fuck Bones_ , something…please!” 

 

“Absolutely not. I’ll let you take whatever you want after whatever bastard-skag high you’re riding is done.”

 

Jim felt relieved. Somewhere in the back of his miserable conscious was the idea that Bones would tell him he had to quit. He couldn’t quit, not if it was going to be like this.

 

“Promise?” 

 

“Yes, darlin’.” 

 

 

—

 

 

“Why are do you doing this to me?” Jim asked after his third dose of Naloxone. 

 

He weakly fought at Leonard’s hold on his arms. Again, Jim had experienced the brief faux-calm of the heroin before his receptors were blocked. Of course Jim couldn’t understand that whatever cut he’d taken wasn’t playing well with how much heroin was already in his blood, that there would be no gentle high. He would literally die if Leonard didn’t keep administering the blocker.

 

They were still sitting on the bathroom floor, Leonard leaned up against the sink cabinet, Jim pulled tightly against his chest. Jim was entirely too sick to break away, and Leonard’s grip lessened his shakes. He wasn’t even sure Jim was going to remember this later, there was no reason he shouldn’t be honest. 

 

If ever, now was certainly the time, “Because I don’t want you to die.” 

 

“Why?” Jim asked in a moment of clarity. "I'm the worst, I'm too much trouble."

 

“Because dumbass, I love you.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I need you to fucking live.” Leonard wasn’t sure if that was an admission or a statement. 

 

Jim craned his neck to sneak a glance at Leonard. “You…love me?”

 

“Yeah, I—Yeah.”

 

“No one’s ever…loved me,” Jim said letting his head loll back against Leonard’s shoulder.

 

“Well I do.” 

 

“Pretty shitty time…to tell me—when…I’m _dying_ —don’t you think?”

 

“I already told you darlin’, you’re not gonna to die tonight. So it’s pretty romantic if you think about it.” 

 

“I forgot you’re…all about romance.” 

 

“You just sit here, shut up, and stop dying.” 

 

Jim wished the admission made his current state hurt any less. It didn’t. His body still felt like a pile of crossed wires, electrocuting him as he was being strangled slowly. It did make him want to fight though, just a little, just so he could ask Bones if he really meant it later, when he wasn’t dying. 

 

Leonard had let Jim sleep after five hours. It had been a harrowing night. He’d been fine for the last two hours not needing another dose of the blocker. Which meant the overdose had run it’s course. Leonard knew he should’ve probably taken Jim to a hospital—called a goddamn ambulance—but he also knew Jim would have never forgiven him. He couldn’t lose Jim, especially not for something as stupid as that. He couldn’t sleep. Just kept watching Jim, afraid he’d been wrong, afraid he’d hear that death rattle again, not willing to risk it after all this. He’d sleep later.

 

 

—

 

 

“I won’t take anything unless you’re giving it to me,” Jim promised when he woke up. He was cranky, twitchy, absolutely desperate for another hit. He needed to feel that surge in his veins. While he would have said anything to get Bones to shoot him up, he meant it. 

 

“I know you won’t,” Bones had told him seriously.

 

“Put it in my arm,” Jim asked, holding it out. He wanted to watch it, to really be able to see. It was his favorite spot, the crook of his elbow an absolute mess of scars. He liked it—the haphazard pattern—and he loved the rush.

 

Leonard hated himself as he knotted the tourniquet on Jim’s bicep. He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t want to do this. Leonard should get him to stop, but that would only be a fight, a fight he’d lose. He would cave. Jim would wear him down and he’d end up shooting Jim up anyway, because he _liked_ sliding the needle under Jim’s skin, because he wanted to make Jim feel good, because he was a stupid bastard. Because he loved Jim. 

 

He willed himself not to get hard as he emptied the syringe. Just this once, he begged himself to be practical, to not be more of a monster than he already was.

 

Jim relaxed the second the heroin hit him, licking his lips and blinking softly. He hoped his eyes conveyed the absolute gratitude he felt. If they didn’t, he hoped his body would make up for it soon enough. Judging from the swell of Bones’ jeans, all was forgiven. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anyone still like/want this? thoughts, feelings?  
> thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyy guys I'm really so incredibly sorry about all the dead time between updates. Thank you all for being patient with me.

 

Leonard thanked the courier, handing him a few bills before shutting the door and locking the deadbolt. He ripped the bag open on the counter, pulling out the squat glass jar and peeling off the gold foil. He grabbed a spoon and walked over to Jim putting both objects in his hands before sitting down. 

 

Jim breathed out a surprised laugh. He dug the spoon into the gooey spread and popped it in his mouth. 

 

“That is disgusting,” Leonard said shaking his head. He’d tried nutella once and it was so sweet it made his head hurt. It was impressively horrifying that Jim could eat it in spoonfuls. 

 

“Did you seriously get this delivered for me?” Jim asked.  

 

“And some other shit,” Leonard hedged.

 

Jim licked gratefully at the chocolate, humming his appreciation. Bones could have just as well told him he never wanted to see nutella in the house again after last night—or Jim at all. But instead he’d stayed with Jim all day. 

 

Bones had pulled Jim into the shower with him that morning after shooting him up. He’d sat Jim down on the ledge and fisted his own hard cock until his cum was swirling down the drain. Jim had whined at him, confused. Bones hadn’t even _asked_ if Jim had wanted to suck him off, and he’d felt a little rejected—useless. Bones had shushed him with a kiss, pulling him into the hot spray of the water. 

 

“Later,” Bones had said dismissively, “if you want, we can do that later. Let me just do this for now.” 

 

That had been okay, because Bones had kept touching him. His fingers had seemed afraid to leave Jim’s skin for too long, tracing and washing, skimming across Jim’s body as though he was trying to learn it by touch. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Jim had whispered, wondering if Bones could even hear him over the pounding water. If he had, he’d let it go unacknowledged.

 

Leonard watched now, swallowing gulps of his coffee, fuck it was good to see Jim with energy. Enjoying something. Alive. He’d been fucking terrified last night. Too close to disaster. Too close to Leonard losing the only thing he had left. 

 

“So, you love me?” Jim said, gesturing accusatorially with the spoon. 

 

Leonard felt his stomach flip. He gripped his mug just a little tighter. “Oh you remember that, huh?”

 

“Would you rather I forgot?” 

 

Leonard looked at him trying desperately to keep his face neutral, “No.” 

 

“You _love me_ ,” Jim said, overemphasizing the words in disbelief, “even though I’m like this?”

 

“Sweet-tooth and all.” 

 

“ _Bones_.” 

 

“It’s the only way I’ve ever known you, Jim.” 

 

“I…I don’t…I can’t…”

 

“It’s not a test. You don’t have to say it back—I don’t want you to. Not now, not if you don’t mean it.” 

 

“I’ve never loved anyone.” 

 

“That sounds lonely.” 

 

“Seems like it’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Jim licked another swath of nutella off his spoon, staring at Bones pointedly, “Look at you.” 

 

Leonard narrowed his eyes, doing his best not to let the flippant remark hurt. “Do you love heroin?” 

 

Jim’s shoulder rose and fell half-heartedly. “That’s not a fair comparison.” 

 

“Seems like you love it.” 

 

“I told you, I don’t really know what that means.” 

 

“How do you feel when you’re using?” 

 

“It’s like fireworks, and death…and standing outside in the pouring rain. It’s like the wind howling in your ears while you scream. It’s like pain and sex and a warm blanket. It’s like you’re a feather tucked next to a thousand others on the wing of a crow, and that moment right after the sun slips below the horizon.” Jim blinked, eyes staring unfocused past Leonard, “It’s the feeling you get when someone brushes your arm accidentally on a crowded street and it stretches and warps and knocks the air out of your lungs. And it hurts when it’s over, but you can have it all back in an instant, and it’s always the same.” 

 

Leonard paused, considering. “It sounds big,” he said, even though that wasn’t the half of it.

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“And dangerous.” 

 

“You already know it is. Isn’t everything good dangerous?” 

 

“Not like that.” 

 

Jim looked away, biting absently at his empty spoon. “What’s it feel like?”

 

“What?”

 

“What’s it feel like to love me?”

 

“I can’t articulate it…” Leonard said shaking his head, “it’ll sound stupid.” 

 

“ _Tell_ _me_.” 

 

“Like there’s not enough room in my head. Like when I’m not with you my body’s being slowly ripped apart. Like I’d burn my whole damn life down if you asked me to.” 

 

“That sounds unhealthy as shit.” 

 

“Don’t you dare preach to me about healthy anything.” 

 

“I’m not.” Jim got up, abandoning his utensil and settled himself in Leonard’s lap, straddling his legs. "It’s nice…to hear you talk like that.” 

 

“It’s _nice?_ ”

 

He put his hands on Leonard’s chest a guilty smile turning up. “Yeah, I like knowing I dragged you down to my fucked up level. I like not being the only one who’s a mess.”

 

“You’ve never been the only one.” 

 

“We’re probably terrible for each other.” 

 

“I don’t care.” 

 

“Me neither.” Jim kissed his jaw softly, “I dunno shit about love, but you make me happy—that has to count for something.” 

 

“It does…you make me happy too.” 

 

A pang ran faintly through his chest as he a little as he nuzzled up against Bones, tucking his head agains his shoulder. Love was too abstract for Jim, but happy he could wrap his mind around. Happy had been scarce for so long. Happy was more than he thought he’d ever have. 

 

“I’m sorry I fucked up,” Jim said as Bones laced his fingers with Jim’s. “I’m sorry I fucked you up.” 

 

“I’m not.” Leonard kissed Jim’s head, holding him a little too tight. 

 

 

**—**

 

 

“So she _literally_ fell for you?” 

 

“Yup, almost twisted her ankle, but I was there to catch her.” 

 

“Damnit, that’s disgustingly sweet.” Leonard laughed, it was just like Christine he remembered. Good timing, best case scenario, wit of steel. “What’s she do?” 

 

“Nyota’s a translator for this diplomat from…uh…Slovenia? I can’t ever remember.” 

 

“What the fuck was she even doing here?”

 

“Visiting family, her half sister was getting married.” 

 

“You saved a whole wedding. Shit Chris, could you be anymore altruistic?” 

 

“Probably not, saving lives on the clock, saving relationships in my down time. I’m a fucking saint.” 

 

Leonard nodded, laughing. 

 

“But seriously, enough about me! I’ve been talking your ear off, what’s going on with you? Where have you been hiding all this time? Did you switch into private practice?” 

 

Leonard rolled his beer bottle between his hands absently, “you _really_ don’t want to get tangled up with my shit.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Leo? I wouldn’t have bothered asking if I didn’t want to get into it,” Christine said with a long-suffering sigh. “Stop acting cryptic and tell me what’s going on with you.” 

 

“Fine, but you insisted—remember that. It’s…I hate that I’m saying this, but it’s really fucking complicated.” 

 

“Okay, let’s start small. I’ll uncomplicated it for you: are you fucking someone?”

 

“Chris—"

 

“Yes or no?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Are you exclusive?” 

 

“Mostly.” 

 

“Uh… _sure_ okay. How often do you see them?”

 

Leonard sighed, “He lives with me.” 

 

Christine took pause at that, “Alright, so it’s a little complicated.” 

 

“He’s twenty-one.” 

 

“More than legal, so no judgement here.” 

 

Damn her for being so understanding, time to shatter that. “He’s a heroin addict.” 

 

Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell open just the slightest bit. “Well…fine, you got me. That does sound like it’s pretty fucking complicated.” 

  
Leonard threw his hands up and let them fall back into his lap, “I _did_ tell you.” 

 

“You did, you did,” Christine admitted easily, “it’s just, if you told me that the Leonard McCoy I knew in med school would—”

 

“ _I know_ , it’s a mess.”

 

“How’d you meet…um?”

 

“Jim.”

 

“How’d you meet Jim?”

 

Leonard couldn’t help the quirk of his lip, she was going to lose it, but she hadn’t left already, so what did it matter. 

 

“I’m his dealer.” 

 

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

 

“I’m his dope dealer, or I _was._ I subsidize him now.” 

 

Christine folded her hands and brought them up to her lips, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes. Leonard didn’t know what else to say, so he said nothing, just watched as Christine fought an internal battle.

 

“Okay…wow that’s…wow. I don’t know what to say.” 

 

“That’s a first.”

 

“Leo, jesus…I have so many questions I don’t even know where to start.” 

 

“It’s okay if you want to go, forget you ran into me. You really _don’t_ have to put up with my shit.” 

 

“What kind garbage friend would I be if I left now? I asked, you warned me!”

 

“I did.” 

 

“I know! This is some Lifetime movie shit right here, I can’t tap out now.” Christine pulled the plate of fries closer to her, chewing thoughtfully. “What happened with Jocelyn, or is that complicated too? You said you’re not still together, right? At least it’s not complicated like that.” 

 

“Oh, no that’s easy. We’re divorced, it was a mutual decision. She has full custody of our daughter, that was _not_ a mutual decision. Family court is a bitch, designed to make you hate your spouse and take all your money.” Leonard sighed taking a swig of his drink, “Apparently being a surgeon doesn’t equate to a judge finding you nurturing and stable…which is probably true. And she had a better lawyer."  

 

“You have a daughter? I bet she’s a trip…just as stubborn as you.” 

 

“Probably,” Leonard smiled, it was sad and a little tired, “I don’t really know anymore, haven’t seen her in a couple years—my fault. She shouldn’t have to see me like this anyway.”

 

Christine ran her tongue over her teeth, making a clicking noise. “Seems like everything’s your fault these days.” 

 

“Yeah. I’ve made some bad choices.” 

 

“Well it doesn’t look like _you’re_ shooting smack, so there’s a point for you,” she teased. 

 

“Pretty sure you don’t get points for not doing hard drugs.” 

 

“I’m trying to give you points for _something_ , work with me here.” 

 

“Fine.” 

 

“You’re not a doctor anymore?” Christine asked a little unnecessarily. 

 

“I got fired…it was during the divorce. I failed my drug test—weed _not_ heroin. They didn’t pull my license, because it wasn’t a day I had surgery scheduled, but there’s a note in my file. Trying get a new position, to explain what happened when _I_ don’t even know what happened...I just can’t face going back.”

 

“To medicine?”

 

Leonard thought about it for a moment, finally deciding if she was still sitting across from him it would be okay to say it. “To anything. To a 'normal' life. It’s all too hard.” 

 

“I know you’re not asking, but what you’re doing now sounds a whole hell of a lot harder.” 

 

Leonard sighed. She wasn’t wrong, everything was so much more complicated than when he’d been a surgeon. So many things he could have never anticipated. “I need him,” he said, side stepping her thought. 

 

“Why?” 

 

“I don’t have anything else.” 

 

Christine looked at him, tilting her head as she studied, munching a few more fries absently. “Oh…you love him,” she said quietly. 

 

“Yeah.” Leonard had to look away from her, the sympathy in her eyes was too intense. “It just…It just _happened_."

 

She put her hand out, covering Leonard’s where it lay unmoving on the table. “That’s how it goes.” 

 

 

**—**

 

 

Leonard did deliveries for his clients who bought bigger volumes. The people he dealt to were normal, so mind-numbingly normal. Apartments and houses that looked just like any normal place. A person paying him in folded bills who could have been anyone. An older man in a suit, a woman with a towel thrown over her shoulder. A lady with dark red lipstick and blue stilettos. They were all people you could pass on the street every day and not know they were addicts. It was getting harder to dole out the bags every day, looking at their clear eyes, knowing he was selling their self-destruction. Knowing that he was complicit in their demise. His stomach churned unpleasantly now, when before he’d just taken their money and left. 

 

The street sales were even harder. Leonard had never liked doing really, but it was part of his route—his territory—and his supplier would be pissed if he let his spot go. Leonard couldn’t afford to anyway, not with the expenses of Jim’s H coming out of his pocket. It wasn’t that he wanted to help them, not really. It was just every time a trembling junkie came up to him he couldn’t stop imaging of a million reasons why their life had gone down this route. He saw the desperation in their eyes, the need, and it made his chest tight thinking of Jim. How Jim had just been another one of them for so long. 

 

He knew it was pointless to even bring it up. There was no way he could say it without sounding stupid. Leonard didn’t know why he couldn’t leave it alone. Jim had already promised not to use outside of Leonard’s supervision—a promise he knew Jim might flip on at any moment—so saying anything about his misgivings would only serve to upset Jim. 

 

And yet, he found the words tumbling from his mouth just days later. 

 

“I hate that I’m killing you.”

 

Jim rolled his eyes but didn’t stop unloading the dishwasher. He known it would come sooner or later. He actually couldn’t believe it hadn’t been sooner. “You’re _not_ , it’s not killing me. It makes me feel good. You help, you always help me.” 

 

“Jim—”

 

“I’ll just get it somewhere else,” Jim cut in quietly. 

 

“ _What?”_ Leonard felt like he’d been hit with a brick of ice. He knew it was a possibility but he wanted to shake Jim for saying it.

 

“I’m not trying to taunt you. Fuck, I’m not even trying to bribe you or…whatever. I know what I said before but…” Jim shook his head, turning so he could lean against the counter. Saying it out loud was scarier than he’d thought it would be. He’d knew it was going to upset Bones after everything. It wasn't that he wanted to, but Jim knew the reality of the situation. “I’m just telling you the truth. If you cut me off I’ll just get it somewhere else.” 

 

Leonard sighed, watching how nervous Jim suddenly looked. “I’m—I’m not going to cut you off.” He couldn’t. He wouldn’t put Jim in more danger, wouldn’t push him away. No matter what position it put him in.

 

“Then…what?” Jim asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Leonard felt defeated. “I don’t know, darlin’.”

 

“Why did you bring it up then?”

 

“It feels like I’m hurting you, and I hate that.” 

 

“You like giving me the needles, and I need the drugs.”

 

Leonard flinched visibly, “Why would you—”

 

“I’m not _stupid_ , Bones. And I’m definitely not blind. The way your breath hitches and your jeans get tight when you shoot me up, you’re not fooling anyone. So maybe…maybe you don’t hate hurting me all that much.” 

 

There was a stab in his chest where his heartbeat should have been. “I thought it didn’t hurt.” 

 

Bones was going out of his way to avoid eye contact. His jaw was clenched and the shade of red he was wearing suited him extraordinarily well. Jim _knew_ he had him. He’d known he was right the first time he’d really watched Bones inject him. “It doesn’t, not when you do it. 

 

Leonard let out a long, shaking breath. Jim had caught him and was digging his fingers into something that Leonard wasn’t entirely comfortable himself. “It’s not like I _want_ it to hurt. It’s just something about watching the needle disappear into skin, to getting the tip inside a vein. I’m not sure I can explain it…I sound like a fucking idiot.” 

 

“I don’t care. I like when you do it.” He moved towards Bones, a confidence taking root in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

 

“You like the way it feels in your veins.” 

 

Jim gave him a lopsided grin, “Guilty…but even before it hits me. I like watching how excited you get.” 

 

Leonard’s eyes slid to the floor. He folded and unfolded his hands as if that could somehow make their whole situation less fucked up. “I must be some kind of monster.”

 

“ _My_ monster,” Jim amended possessively.

 

 _His monster_. That was what Leonard had always been, really. At least that made him Jim's _something_. His face staring back at him in the mirror that first night flashed through his memory, when he'd stared waiting to see the darkness inside him displayed in the reflection. Leonard had thought that was a turning point. He'd had no fucking idea how much farther he was gong to fall. 

 

Bones sighed, it looked like he was losing the battle he was fighting with himself. _Good_ , Jim thought. He needed Bones to lose this battle. He needed Bones the way he had him, Jim didn’t want to battle his conscience. He moved towards Bones, closing the space between them. 

 

“Come on,” Jim pestered as he grabbed a fistful of Bones’ shirt, “Dope me up, then you can put something even bigger inside me than a needle.”

 

“ _What_ are you afraid will happen if we fuck when you’re sober?” Leonard asked softly. 

 

Jim looked at him with disbelief, “I’d be sober.”

 

“Am I so old you don’t want to fuck me unless you’re high?” 

 

“Aw, Bones, that’s cute. It’s got nothing to do with you.” 

 

“Oh, well isn’t that _sweet?_ ” Leonard said his tone dripping with sarcasm. He didn’t want to put Jim in a bad mood. They’d narrowly avoided a fight. The reality was, he knew it really didn't have anything to do with him and Leonard knew he’d give in eventually. It was this or nothing, and Leonard couldn't have nothing. “Alright…alright fine, let me get your shit.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Again I feel it's worth mentioning that while I know quite a bit about addiction and heroin use from research and people in my life, I do not have personal experience with either and while I hope I'm doing it justice if there is something unbelievable, incorrect, or offensive, please do let me know. 
> 
> You can also let me know what you think of the work in general, if you want (:
> 
> More is to come, and while I won't lie and say I update quickly, but I do promise to finish it!


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